


Witnesses

by Woolverine



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woolverine/pseuds/Woolverine
Summary: This is a series of drabbles showing how the Tempest crew deal with, and view, the changing relationship between their Pathfinder and Reyes Vidal. Each chapter takes place between parts of Even Shadows Dream, my completed Sara Ryder/Reyes Vidal work.The chapter order changes pretty much every time I update. Seems I'm not capable of producing these in chronological order :D





	1. Mandatory Fun Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's stressed out, but it's fine, the doctor has A Plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after Night on the the Town, before High Noon.

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” Liam complained. There was a whiny undertone. 

“Don’t ask me, ask the doctor,” the Pathfinder responded. Hair was falling forward across her eyes. She was finding her hair more and more annoying. A bit like Liam really.

“Do we really have to move the sofa?” 

“We can’t get everyone into the storage room. We can’t fit everyone comfortably in the galley. Basically, Kosta, the Tempest was designed by people who never sit down.”

“And we have to put everything back as soon as we finish?” He grunted with exertion.

“You know this. I’ve told you twice already. Health and bloody safety. It could be worse.”

They were maneuvering the sofa through the door carefully. A lift here, a twist there, and the beast was out of the storage room and into the main cargo bay. 

“How could it be worse?” Liam wanted to know. 

“We could be moving this bloody thing up to my quarters. Or the meeting room.”

“The whole idea sucks.”

“I’m not going to comment. The doctor has scheduled a mandatory mental health improvement group session. We all have to attend at the same time, and that means moving some furniture.” Ryder looked up from her end of the sofa, and glared. “Deal with it, Liam.”

The gun bench was bolted to the floor and couldn’t be moved. The crew had had to arrange the chairs from the galley in that area, setting up shipping crates and foot lockers as impromptu tables. Doctor T’Perro was overseeing proceedings with her normal gravitas. When Ryder and Costa dumped the sofa down, T’Perro gestured for its placement to be altered, slightly, and then again, even more slightly. Ryder didn’t say anything, which took effort. 

Vetra was already positioned at the gun bench. PeeBee was sitting on a crate cross legged, clutching a box. Ryder commandeered one of the chairs, Drax another, Suvi and Kallo the last two. That left Cora squashed on the sofa between Gil and Liam. The blonde biotic did not look pleased. 

The Asari took up a place in the middle of the rough circle, and looked at each of them in turn. “I’ve had to take this step because some members of the crew continually ignore my advice about taking time to relax properly.”

“I relax all the time!” Liam piped up. 

“Relaxation should be more than drinking beer, and masturbation, Liam,” the doctor reprimanded. 

Liam’s denials were lost in the jeers and laughter of his crewmates. Gil, in particular, found Lexi’s words hilarious, and the look Liam gave the engineer promised delayed retribution. 

“It has been known for centuries that sentients need creative outlets as to maintain excellent mental health. It is also agreed being creative as part of a group is beneficial. This then is the first Tempest Craft Night. I hope you have all brought something to work on.”

PeeBee patted her box. “I have! And Vetra says she’s going to make me a necklace.”

“I can hardly drag my plants down here, Lexi,” Cora said. 

“You must have other hobbies, Cora. You grew up in deep space, after all.”

Cora pulled a face. “We got taught lots of different things to keep us occupied. Not many of them stuck.”

“But some did?” Lexi prompted. 

Cora reached down to the floor and produced a graphics pad and stylus. “I can draw. Does that count?”

“Certainly.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Jaal?” Gil asked, trying to postpone his agony. 

“Jaal is joining us shortly. He is gathering up his things and is going to lead the group this evening,” Lexi replied. “And Gil, what have you brought?”

“I’m the engineer; the whole ship is my craft project!” He and Liam high fived about two centimetres from Cora’s face. 

Ryder and Lexi stared at them, seriously. When the men noticed the scrutiny, they sat back and tried to hide their smiles. 

“If you don’t have a hobby or project of your own, you can choose one from what Jaal’s  providing, Gil, Liam. ”

“What?” “Unfair!” they protested.

“Stop being such obstructionist arseholes, and maybe you’ll enjoy yourselves,” Drack suggested.

“Cos you’re such a hardcore crafter and hobbyist, old timer,” Liam jeered. 

Ryder held her breath. She could envision this going several ways, all of which ended up with Liam in the medbay, and Drack spotted with Liam’s blood. Liam had been doing her tits in for days, so that left Sara with a quandary. Interfere or not interfere? Mind you, her dad had always said a good commander should only stick their nose into group dynamics when necessary. Ryder decided that ‘when necessary’ meant if it looked like Liam was going to end up with concussion. She settled down to watch. 

Drack pulled out a knife out of his bag, a knife with a short, thin blade, and a scary point. 

Ryder changed her “when necessary” to mean if it looked like Liam was going to lose vital organs. 

Then the krogan took a wraith tooth out of the bag. “I’m making a set of game pieces for Kesh out of teeth. I carve little faces and patterns into them.”

The crisis specialist gaped. “Little faces?”

“Look, Kosta, I’m over a thousand years old. Even Krogan don’t kill or drink constantly, and you reach a point where persuading someone to have sex with you seems like too much work. Boredom gets really dull after a few decades.” Drack shrugged. “But I’m sure you know better, squishy.”

“I like embroidery,” PeeBee said. “I can fit all my materials into this box and if I need a gift for someone, I can give them something I’ve made and they think I actually give a shit because they’ve got a handmade present.” 

“Huh,” Liam muttered. “I bet you’re not going to make Ryder take part in this rubbish, Lexi.”

“I am sitting right here, Liam. I am going to take part. My project is with Jaal’s things. I’ve been teaching him to knit, and he’s been teaching me to sew.” Ryder shrugged as well. “Drack’s right. Boredom is really dull. Speaking of which, Drack has been teaching me how to cook.”

“When are you all doing this stuff?” Liam wanted to know. 

“While we’re pretending we haven’t noticed your little wank breaks,” Suvi answered. “At least you’ve stopped wanking in OUR BATHROOM. I reported that to Ryder, you know. Very unhygienic.”

Liam’s face darkened with embarrassment. “I’ve never wanked in OUR BATHROOM!” he protested.

Suvi grinned. “But in other places, huh? Thought so. Drack, I win. Pay up.”

“What the hell?” Now Liam looked really embarrassed. 

“Suvi bet me she could get you or Gil to admit to wanking,” Drack rumbled. 

“Don’t drag me into this!” Gil remonstrated.

Ryder beckoned to Lexi. When the doctor was near enough, the Pathfinder whispered. “Is the style of thing you were expecting?” 

Lexi smiled widely. “Pretty much,” she murmured back. 

“I have no interest in catching you wanking, Liam,” Gil was saying. “I’ve seen what you’ve got, and it doesn’t interest me.”

For some reason Ryder didn’t understand, because he was totally hetero, Liam was offended by Gil’s lack of interest in his genitals. 

“There’s nothing wrong with me down there. I’ve had plenty of compliments about my package. I thought we were friends, Gil, how can you diss my dick?”

Gil rolled his eyes. “I’ve got no interest in your dick BECAUSE we’re friends, idiot. You don’t eye Suvi’s tits when she’s in the shower.” 

“Well, there’s no point, is there? Suvi is….” Everyone saw the penny drop in Liam’s brain. “Oh, I get it now. That’s okay then.”

“Hang on, Kosta! If the only reason you don’t gape at Suvi when she’s naked is because she’s gay, does that me you gape at me when I’m naked?” Cora demanded. 

Ryder tried to suppress a snigger, failed, so went straight for a full laugh. 

“This is a serious matter, Sara!” Cora sounded a bit huffy. 

“What is this, pick on Liam night? I don’t gape at you or Ryder, Cora, because you’re above me in the chain of command. Wouldn’t be right.” Liam was definitely aggrieved now. 

“I don’t mind if you watch me in the shower, Liam,” PeeBee offered. “You could join me, you know, if your hand is tired, for a quickie.”

“FUCK SAKE!” Liam shouted. “Can we talk about someone else now? Something else? This is pissing me off.”

“I know,” Ryder said helpfully, “Why don’t we go back to talking about what other hobbies you might have, apart from drinking beer? And Gil, you can’t get out of this by working on the Tempest. Because that’s your JOB, not a recreational pastime.”

The engineer scratched his ginger beard. “Actually, I do have one particular favourite activity. Photography.”

“Interesting,” Lexi said. “What sort of pictures do you take, Gil?”

“I’ve got some smashing ones I took in Kadara Port. I’m thinking of getting them enlarged to hang on my wall, they are that good.” Gil was trying not to smile. 

Ryder was hit by sudden dread. “What are they pictures of, Brodie?”

“I’ve got an utterly fantastic picture of Reyes Vidal’s bum. He was leaning forward on the bar in Kralla’s Song, I couldn’t resist. He has got a such a great bum.” Gil was deliberately not looking at the Pathfinder. “And I’ve got a few shots of the sunset over Kadara Port I took the last time we were there. You know, when you were supposed to be at the party, Ryder.”

Was that a tiny wink? The Pathfinder had a sudden fit of coughing. Had Brodie… Could Brodie have…. She stared at him, wide eyed in sudden panic. He grinned back. Ryder couldn’t tell if Gil was winding her up or not. Maybe starting the Tempest poker nights again would be a good idea?

“Gil, I have to disagree with you, I’m afraid,” Suvi’s sweet voice interrupted Sara’s thoughts. “Reyes Vidal doesn’t have a great bum. He’s got a bloody fantastic bum. Don’t bother taking pictures of it. We should just stick on a frame on it, and hang Vidal on the wall, because it’s a work of art.”

“Hang on, why do you care, Suvi?” Liam wanted to know.

“I’m gay, not blind, Liam. Nowhere in the Gay Girls’ Handbook does it say I can’t appreciate, aesthetically of course, a damned fine masculine form,” Suvi retorted. 

“I bet Vidal’s a good kisser,” PeeBee said. “He looks like he’d be a good kisser.”

Every head turned to look at Ryder, who felt the heat rush into her face. Had Gil really taken a photo of her and Reyes kissing? Had he shown it to the others? Suddenly, the Pathfinder felt she had been expertly ambushed. What was she to do? 

Own it, of course.

“To paraphrase Suvi, he’s a bloody fantastic kisser,” Sara confessed. “Straight into my Top Five Best Kisses.”

“Whoa! I wasn’t expecting that!” Liam exclaimed. “You’ve snogged that Exile smuggler, Ryder? Talk about overstepping professional boundaries!”

“We needed a reason to be in a restricted area inside the Outcast HQ. I grabbed Reyes and snogged the face off him until the guard went away.” Sara shrugged. “The plan worked,”

PeeBee’s eyes went wide. “You naughty Pathfinder!” Then the Asari smiled slyly. “So Vidal is worth kissing then? Might give him a shot myself.”

“Hands off, he’s mine!” Sara responded without thinking, then slapped her hand over her mouth. 

There was a stunned silence. Of course, Jaal chose that exact moment to arrive. He was lugging a large footlocker.

“You should have started without me,” the Angaran said. “I apologise for being late. I couldn’t find one of my knitting needles.”

“Knitting! Yes! Let’s talk about knitting,” Sara said eagerly. Anything to distract the predators now circling her position. 

“You can’t go there, really you can’t,” Cora commented. 

“Yeah, not convinced it’s a good idea, Ryder,” Liam agreed. 

“Knitting? Why is talking about knitting a bad idea?” Jaal asked. 

“Sara kissed Reyes Vidal,” PeeBee informed Jaal. “And she wants to kiss him again.”

“The Resistance contact, Shena? I’m not sure that was wise, Ryder,” Jaal advised. “We know very little about him. I suspect some of his activities may be illegal.”

Remembering the bottle of Mount Milgrom she had helped Reyes steal, Ryder couldn’t help giggling. “Some of them definitely are, if we’re talking about Sloane’s laws.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Suvi said. “It’s not as if Sara is inviting the man onboard the Tempest and giving him access to all our information. Even a Pathfinder is entitled to a private life.”

“He’s an Exile, a criminal, we can’t trust him,” Cora hissed.

“Hang on, Harper. Not everyone who got exiled was a rioter. Many happened to be in the wrong place at wrong time. They were only after more information about the shit the Nexus was in. You can’t call them criminals for wanting a full briefing,” Vetra said. “People got caught up in it by accident.”

“Uh huh, but you don’t know for sure if Vidal was caught up in it by accident, Vetra,” the biotic responded. 

“Some of those who left had played no role at all in the mutiny. They were so sickened by Tann waking up Morda just to quell the fighting that they didn’t want any further part of the Initiative.” Vetra’s mandibles clicked with annoyance. “You can’t assume every Exile is a mutineer and call them all criminals.”

“I can certainly assume Vidal is a criminal based on what he’s done since leaving the Nexus. He’s a self-admitted smuggler in a haven of other scum and criminals. Doesn’t make him look particularly innocent, Vetra.” The Pathfinder’s second was getting angry.

“Perhaps we should get back to talking about hobbies now,” Lexi interposed. 

“Certainly, let’s talk about hobbies and ignore the fact the Pathfinder is compromising our entire mission by playing house with the enemy,” Cora snarled, standing up. 

“Vidal is not the enemy, Harper,” Ryder said. “He’s turning out to be a pretty good ally.”

“Of course you would say that, Sara. You’ve had damp knickers ever since you met Vidal. Your opinion is in no way impartial, because you’re panting to fuck him.”

Ryder stood up now as well, unconsciously falling into a combat ready stance. She was responding automatically to the slight blue flare starting around Cora as the biotic’s abilities started to trigger. Drack carefully put away his carving tools and the wraith’s tooth. The krogan rolled his shoulders to loosen them. All the laughter had fled the room. Everyone was tensed, unsure what was going to happen next. 

“I’m going to make some supper,” Drack said. “Going to give me a hand, Ryder?”

Ryder’s glare did not abate. “I think so, old man. I feel like slicing some shit up.”

The Pathfinder stalked out of the cargo bay, the krogan half a step behind her. She heard Kallo speak for the first time that evening.

“Well, that could have gone better,” the Salarian said. 

“Too fucking right,” Lexi replied.

 


	2. Home Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain science officer is looking for some stolen shipping containers, and who better to help than a certain shady smuggler?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part takes place after Night on the Town, but before High Noon. 
> 
> The second part is after High Noon.

_ To: Reyes Vidal _

_ From Suvi Anwar _

_ Dear Mr Vidal _

_ I’m part of the Tempest crew. I require some help on a personal business matter. _

_ I believe you would be able to help my associates and me retrieve certain items which went missing from the Nexus during the Uprising.  _

_ May I call in to discuss the matter the next time we are in Kadara Port? _

Reyes huffed in bemusement. He knew Suvi Anwar was Ryder’s science officer. He had seen her a few times in the marketplace, usually sniffing something. The smuggler wondered what kind of item Anwar couldn’t ask the Pathfinder for help in retrieving. It was intriguing. He wanted to know more. 

_ To: Suvi Anwar _

_ From: Reyes Vidal _

_ Dr Anwar _

_ Certainly, I would be happy to discuss potentially helping with this retrieval. Message me the next time you enter Kadara Orbit and I will endeavour to clear my diary for you. I believe you know where to find me.  _

 

It was nearly three weeks later that Reyes got the message that the Tempest was coming in and Anwar would still like to meet. It was afternoon, usually one of his busy times, but he rearranged a few calls and meetings. Reyes sat back in his private room in Tartarus, with a selection of deceptively alcoholic drinks, and waited for Anwar’s arrival.

Despite having seen the scientist before, Reyes was taken aback by how damn cute she was, with her ginger hair and pale pink lipstick. He was even more taken aback when he heard her speak. The smuggler knew his accent was appealing, and he worked it, but he reckoned Anwar’s accent must entice and entrance people too. Somehow it made her even cuter. 

“Mr Vidal?” Anwar said, holding out her hand for a no nonsense shake.

“Call me Reyes. Mr Vidal was my father,” he said smoothly, with a welcoming smile, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Then you have to call me Suvi.”

She sat down on the seat Reyes indicated and accepted his offer of a drink.

“Fruity, with a bit of a bite. I like this stuff, Reyes,” Suvi said after tasting the bright blue drink he’d poured. 

“Because the water isn’t always to be trusted, it’s best to always stick to something distilled,” he explained, “even during the day.”

“Makes sense to me.” She smiled and knocked back the drink in one. 

Reyes was suddenly alarmed. Hadn’t Suvi realised the stuff had alcohol in it? Because she’d just downed it like fruit juice. He decided not to push the point, after all if she became incapacitated it gave him an excuse to contact the Tempest, perhaps even take Suvi back, get onboard the Nexus vessel. 

“I’m curious what kind of item is missing, that you cannot ask the Pathfinder to retrieve it for you, Suvi,” he said.

“Nothing nefarious or illegal, or pornographic.  Don’t worry, Reyes. I don’t want to get Sara involved because she has so many people her wanting to do things for them already. I can’t pretend this is even slightly to do with the our mission. I’d rather get it sorted out privately. There is no problem with payment. The group I’m representing have credits, resources, and favours to throw around to get our result.”

“The favours would have more value if I knew who would be owing me,” Reyes commented. 

“We’re placed at every level of the Initiative, on the Nexus and the Hyperion, in every discipline. We all share a liking for a particular Milky Way item, and we’d put arrangements in place so we’d still be able to keep on enjoying it in Andromeda. Some of the resources we need went missing. We haven’t been able to track them down, because none of us have any decent contacts among the Exiles. That’s where we’d hoped you could come to our assistance, Reyes. Our group would be very appreciative of your efforts.” There was a cheekiness to Suvi’s smile which was disarming Reyes. 

“Okay, I’m interested. Sounds like my kind of job, if you have sufficient information on these ‘resources’, where they were on the Nexus, how they were stored, any serial numbers, etc.” He paused, took a sip of his own drink, then refilled Suvi’s glass. 

“I have collated all the available information. The records on the Nexus were corrupted during the Scourge. However, between us, we knew most of the missing information anyway.” Suvi passed over a datapad, and reached for her drink. Half of it went in a single swig.  

Reyes flicked through the details stored on the datapad, which also told him how many credits they were willing to pay - not a small amount of credits either. “From Barr's of Glasgow? Dehydrated syrup? Some kind of alcohol?”

“Oh, no, it’s not alcohol,” Suvi replied. “It is an icon of Scottish culture, like a good single malt, or square sausage.”

“Square sausage?” Reyes found himself asking. “No, don’t tell me, it’s probably better if I don’t know.”

Suvi laughed, a peeling cackle. “It’s a breakfast food, numpty man. I told you, nothing illegal or nefarious, or pornographic. Just Scottish. Very, very Scottish.” Away went the rest of the glass of booze.

Reyes stared at her, thinking. “What you’re telling me, is that a group of Scottish people, who signed on with the Initiative, has lost a comfort item? And are willing to pay through the nose to retrieve it? And it’s not booze? Or inherently valuable? It’s some kind of foodstuff?”

“Nearly spot on. It’s been the most popular soft drink in Scotland for centuries. Where Scots have gone, Irn Bru has gone. We wouldn’t willingly go anywhere without it.”

“A soft drink?” Reyes was even more bewildered than he had been before. 

“Yep. We’ve got about twenty years worth of the syrup dehydrated, which we reckon should give us plenty of time to get the ingredients growing here in Heleus. The recipe is a strict secret so it’s been encrypted and then divvied up between a dozen of us. All very black ops, Reyes! Totally hush hush!”

“Okay, Suvi. Leave it with me. I’ll reach out to my contacts and colleagues, see if I can track your ‘Irn Bru’ for you.”

“That’s brilliant, Reyes. Mind if I have a wee drop more of your juice? It’s very more-ish.”

“Certainly not, Suvi.” He filled her glass up for the third time, and watched, astounded, as she swigged it down in three swallows. Reyes knew if he’d drunk that much of the ‘juice’ at the rate the petite scientist had, he would be starting to sway on his feet. 

Suvi however, stood without balance problems, and almost skipped over to the door. She turned, waved goodbye. “I look forward to hearing from you, Reyes. Lovely to meet you at last, after all the things I’ve heard about you.” 

And she was gone, without the slightest sign of inebriation. Reyes slumped back in his seat, shaking his head. What, exactly, had just happened?

 

* * *

 

Much had happened since Reyes had first put feelers out to locate the shipping containers full of dehydrated Irn Bru. Truthfully, he had all but forgotten about the search instigated by the little Scottish scientist. Sloane Kelly was dead, if not by his hand, then by his command. The Outcasts had been ousted from Kadara Port and now Keema ran the city. And, of course, Sara was gone from his life. She had been dragged along to the first and final meeting of the Charlatan and Sloane Kelly, and had turned away from Reyes because of his lack of honesty with her. He was still trying to convince himself it was for the best 

Reyes was surprised to get the email announcing the missing shipping containers. He had thought it was going to be a fruitless search given the amount of time which had passed, and the low value of the contents to most here in Heleus. A minor contact on Elaaden had followed a tenuous lead to a remote location, and found the containers, along with others containing items which had proven useless for trade, being used as cover in a scavenger base. Reyes took the decision to fly to the desert planet and bargain himself for the booty. He needed to get off Kadara for a while, needed time alone in the silence of space. He didn’t think helping Suvi would wheedle him get back into Sara’s good graces, no. He had liked the science officer, and her enthusiasm for whatever the hell this iconic Scottish drink was. 

The scavengers thought they were driving a hard bargain, selling the containers as scrap, with the contents thrown in for free. Reyes kept his amusement to himself, knowing the Scots would have paid ten times the amount of credits to get their Irn Bru back. The other containers he bought also, knowing that the contents would have more than monetary value to the right people. Forward planning, he called it. 

It felt odd, docking at the Nexus, his shuttle loaded with legitimate cargo. He’d already confirmed the Tempest was also docked. 

_ To: Suvi Anwar _

_ From: Reyes Vidal _

_ Hey Suvi _

_ I’ve found your Iron Brew. Docked now and ready for unloading. I’ve also acquired a few other items which were taken at the same time from the same storage area. Is your group missing anything else? _

 

_ To: Reyes Vidal _

_From: Suvi Anwar_  

_ Correction: IRN BRU _

_ We did lose a few other things. Do you have the other items with you? If they are ours, we’d be more than happy to pay you for them as well.  _

_ I’ve notified my friends and we’ll meet you at your docking bay in about half an hour.  _

_ This is epic!!!!!!!!!!! _

Reyes almost smiled on seeing on all the exclamation marks. He could picture her excitement. He used the time to pull out the extra containers he bought so they could be more easily inspected by the Scots. 

Promptly, half an hour later, Suvi arrived with about seven or eight others. Reyes was disappointed to note that Suvi was the only ginger. So much for stereotypes, he told himself. He opened the side door and lowered the ramp. The science officer ran up the ramp and flung her arms around him. 

“I’m so excited! This is so exciting! I knew you could get our things back, Reyes! I FUCKING KNEW IT!” She was practically vibrating with emotion. 

The others with Suvi were scarcely less excited. Reyes hadn’t thought it was possible for a group of adults to reach such heights of excitement over a soft drink. 

“Those containers there are definitely yours,” he pointed them out. “These ones were apparently part of the same score, from the same place.”

A tall, dark skinned man began checking the serial numbers on the extra containers. 

“Fucking yes! It’s the tikka masala sauce, guys! And the poppadoms!”

There was a ragged cheer. Suvi, who had released Reyes, began jumping up and down. 

“We can get our curry on properly now!” she squealed. “None of this authentic shite.” 

Reyes shook his head, bemused and bewildered. He kept out of the way as they unloaded his shuttle and dealt with the dock master. It seemed the happier they got, the more the Scots swore. 

Suvi transferred the credits for all the containers plus a 10% bonus. “We fucking owe you big time, Reyes. We won’t forget, big man.”

“It… has been a pleasure, seriously, Suvi. Eye opening, even,” the smuggler replied.

The little Scot waited until the others had moved away, and started to speak more quietly. “I am very sorry about how things played out with you and Sara, I am. There was just too much pressure being put on her once we knew about, you know what. It’s a fucking disgrace, the way some people speak to her, how they twist circumstances. I think what you did was bloody brilliant, getting rid of the Outcasts with so little bloodshed.”

She stood up on tiptoes and kissed Reyes’ cheek. “But what’s for you, won’t go by you, Reyes. There’s time yet.”

He felt his eyes moisten at the words, and the gentle kiss. “Thank you. Suvi. Enjoy your curry and Irn Bru.”

“Hey, you’re coming along too, big man. You’ve earned a taste of these delights, so you fucking have. Grab your party hat, we’re going old school tonight!” 


	3. Group Discussion - Sexuality and Gender Roles in Religion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies' Night In

Vetra slid through the small opening in the door, and made sure to lock it behind her. She was carrying a toolbox, a strangely fragrant toolbox. 

“You manage the beer okay, Suvi?” the Turian asked.

“No problems. They don’t even glance up when I walk past now. I can smell your graxen though, Vetra.” Suvi looked slightly concerned. 

“In here, you can smell it. Out there, there is a strong smell of gun lube.” Vetra opened the toolbox and pulled out her snack food. “What have you and PeeBee got tonight?”

“Chocolate chip cookies. I kept everyone out of the galley by burning some Angaran nutrient paste while they were in the oven.” Suvi giggled. “We are so bad!”

“It’s a matter of survival, Doctor Anwar. If we didn’t have these sessions, we would never be able to put up with some of our crew mates. Murder has detrimental effect on morale.” Vetra sat down and grabbed a dextro beer from the cooler next to Suvi.

“When you put it like that, we are actually doing them a favour then,” the Scot mused.

“Exactly!” PeeBee agreed. “Right, that’s the next episode ready to play.” 

“How did you dump Jaal this week?” Vetra wanted to know. 

“I told him we were going to be talking about how representation of gender and sexuality have changed in human religions, as depicted through ancient human pornography,” PeeBee answered. “He looked absolutely horrified.”

“That’s nearly the truth. Well done, that Asari!” Vetra popped a piece of graxen into her mouth.

PeeBee preened. “No one can say I didn’t learn anything while doing my second doctorate.”

“Is Lexi joining us tonight?” Spirits, the graxen was gooood.

“Nope. SAM is worried about Sara, so Lexi is going to keep her company, see if she can get her to open up a bit,” Suvi answered.

“Bitchface has been griping at Sara again about Pathfinder protocol,” PeeBee said, round a mouthful of cookie. “These cookies are your best yet, Suvi.”

“Ta very much, Peebs.” Suvi grabbed a cookie for herself. “Vetra, do you think you could hold of itching powder?”

“I don’t even know what itching powder is,” Vetra said, “but if we brought any with us, I can find it.”

“It’s a prank thing, a powder you put on or in someone’s stuff, which makes them unbearably itchy so they can’t stop scratching.”

“Oh, perfect!” PeeBee breathed. “In her bunk?”

“I was thinking of putting it in her boots.” Suvi washed down her cookie with a swig of beer. 

“Ladies, much as I agree, that could compromise a mission.”

“Shit, Vetra, do you always have be responsible?” The science officer’s accent was always stronger when she swore.

“It’s a heavy burden to bear but I have to pretend to be a proper Turian sometimes.”

“Do you think Harper has always been like this, or is it simply because Alec Ryder passed her over in favour of Sara?” Suvi asked. 

“I think if Harper had constantly second guessed Alec Ryder the way she does with Sara, she wouldn’t have been his second. Not that I knew Alec at all, you understand. He seemed unlikely to put with never ending bullshit the way Sara does.” Vetra settled herself more comfortably on her crate and closed her eyes in pleasure as she drank more of her beer. 

“From what I know of Asari commandos she wouldn’t have been able to get away with it there either,” PeeBee said. “Bitchface has it in for Sara. That’s all. I mean, it was pretty shit of Alec Ryder to have Harper as his second and then not transfer SAM to her, but we don’t know what state he was in at the time. Oxygen deprivation could easily have messed up his decision making processes. Maybe he thought it was the best way for Sara to survive? Who knows? Not fair to hold Sara to blame for something she had no control over, and pick pick pick at her all the time.”

“Hear hear!” Suvi agreed, and toasted the archaeologist with her beer bottle. “Speaking of Jaal, by the way, one of us really has to go there.” She paused, grinned, “And by us, I mean one of you two.”

“Hey, hang on.” Vetra sounded aggrieved. “Why us?”

“Well, Harper wouldn’t share any details, Lexi won’t shag a patient, and we don’t know if Gil has a chance. First, we should try to establish if Jaal is straight, then move onto other possibilities.”

“I’ll do him,” PeeBee offered.

“Yeah, we know you would, but would Jaal do you? He seemed pretty uncomfortable with you  _ looking _ at him,” Vetra responded.

“Maybe Jaal wants a spiky girlfriend, Vetra. He does seem to seek you out quite a bit.” PeeBee was smiling cheekily. 

“He only ever wants to talk about families, and family life in the Milky Way. What the fuck do I know about that? Keeps asking me about how I managed bringing up Sid by myself. At one point I thought he might be getting a stronger interest in me, so I backed off a bit.”

“Why?” Suvi asked.

“His head is too fleshy. Puts me off,” Vetra replied.

“Like little cushions strapped on,” Suvi agreed.

“I wonder if those parts are erogenous,” PeeBee wondered. 

“Probably not,” Suvi said.

“Bet you twenty credits they are!”

“Done”! Suvi and PeeBee shook hands to confirm the bet.

“You might be making some progress, Peebs. Last time Jaal mentioned you  _ looking _ at him he said he was starting to  _ look back _ . I think slow and subtle might be the best strategy.”

“Oh crap. Slow and subtle is not my best style.”

Suvi giggled. “Yeah, we’ve noticed, Doctor Fast and Obvious!”

PeeBee huffed. “Are we going to watch this episode or not?”

”Where did the last one finish?” Vetra asked.

“Agent Blowhard had been found in a  _ dangerous _ position with the Volus crime boss.”

“How do you manage to make everything sound smutty, PeeBee?”

“Natural talent, Big Vee, natural talent.”

“You know who I bet has natural talent?” Suvi asked.

“Reyes Vidal,” the other two said simultaneously. All three laughed.

“You’ve got a lot of interest in that man for a gay woman,” PeeBee gibed. 

Suvi raised an eyebrow. “He’s interesting? And he’s definitely good for Sara. She is always much more relaxed after she’s spent time with Reyes. She actually smiles properly!”

“Do you think they’ve shagged yet?” PeeBee asked. 

“Nope, I don’t think so,” Vetra said.

“Me neither, and if Harper has her way, they never will. I liked Reyes a lot when I met with him. He must have been gobsmacked by what I was asking him to do, but he never even twitched.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find a trace of your containers, Suvi.”

“It’s all right, Vetra. I think they’ve probably been emptied and reused, the contents long gone. Maybe Reyes will find a trail for them though."

“If the Pathfinder isn’t going to shag Vidal, do you think I could get away with it?” PeeBee looked sly. “I want to know if his arse feels as good as it looks. I definitely want to try out his kisses after what Sara said. He’s been very thorough when we’ve done jobs with him, I wonder if he’s just as thorough in bed.” 

“Don’t you dare”! Vetra exclaimed.

“Absolutely not!” Suvi threw her beer bottle cap at PeeBee. “You had better not mess this up for Sara or I will mess you up, Pelessaria B’Sayle.”

“Goddess, can’t a person fantasise out loud with people getting stroppy!” PeeBee sighed fakely. “You are too straightlaced, both of you.”

Vetra choked on her beer. “We’re here to watch an episodic porn show about a secret intelligence agent fucking his way across the Milky Way, and you’re calling us straightlaced?”

“If you weren’t straightlaced, we wouldn’t be watching it in secret while pretending to talk about religion.”

“Good point, Peebs. Let’s get started. I want to see if Blowhard manages to fuck the crime boss or not.” Vetra shoved a handful of graxen into her mouth. 

 

 


	4. Team Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaal doesn't always get what Liam is talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is set post Night on the Town, pre High Noon, so after Part 1 of Even Shadows dream.

“Is this what is considered alluring among your kind?”  Jaal asked, head tilted in confusion. 

Perhaps he had misunderstood the intent of the evening’s excursion. The Pathfinder was wearing her usual clothing, not what he would have expected. Perhaps she had been dressing to secure a mate all this time, and he had not realised. Jaal hoped he had not inadvertently offended in some way while she had been looking for a fuck.

“Alluring?” Ryder looked puzzled.

Jaal thought he had perhaps used the wrong word. “Enticing? Sexually appealing?”

“No, I understood what you meant the first time, Jaal. Just wondering why you thought I should be looking alluring?”

Liam was standing behind  the Pathfinder, making frantic motions with his hands. Jaal interpreted them as an expression of encouragement.

“Why, because the intent of this evening is for you to have sex, Ryder.” 

Liam was now banging his head off the bulkhead. That usually meant something had gone badly wrong. Gil had his hand pressed over his mouth; it seemed the engineer was trying to suppress sound, badly, as Jaal could plainly hear the snorting noise he was making. 

“Is it? I’m to have sex this evening, am I, Jaal? With whom am I to have sex? Do you know that? Has it been decided already?” Ryder said, very calmly. 

Jaal didn’t know why Liam was reacting in a such vigourous manner. The Pathfinder didn’t seem upset at all.

“I believe it is matter of selecting someone suitable at the bar we shall be visiting. I’m not sure of your species’ mating rituals yet. Liam said anyone would do, as long as they weren’t an Exile smuggler bad boy with an over inflated idea of his sexual attractiveness. I think Liam was referring to Reyes Vidal, which seems strange as he is on Kadara, and we are on the Nexus.” 

“Did Liam say anything else about finding me a sexual partner, Jaal?” There was a slight smile on her face, clearly a sign she was pleased.

“He said there would be a buffet of fuckbuddies available to one such as yourself, Ryder. I was not entirely sure what Liam meant by a buffet, I confess.”

Liam was now attempting to sneak away. He looked rather perturbed. Ryder spun on her heel before Liam had moved a metre. 

“KOSTA! FRONT AND CENTRE!”

Liam froze in position, like a prey animal trying to convince a predator it was not there. Ryder made a noise which sounded remarkably like a growl, which made the human male jump into a stiff, upright position. 

“Ma’am!” he shouted.

“I’m disappointed in you, for several reasons. Firstly, but not most importantly, why does Jaal understand ‘fuckbuddies’ but not ‘buffet’? Secondly, you have given Jaal the idea that you have some sort of say in whom I fuck. Thirdly, this plan for me to hook up with someone this evening.”

“It wasn’t a definite plan. More of, it might be a good idea for you to release some tension, and I started explaining sex is good for that, and maybe Jaal got the wrong idea?” Liam was talking very quickly. 

“No, I’m sure you said we had to get Ryder a good fuck tonight or she would explode with all her ‘pent-up horniness’. Remember, Liam, you had to explain horny and horniness?” Jaal said. 

The engineer was sliding slowly down the wall, still with his hands clamped over his mouth. His cheeks were now a shade of red which clashed with the colour of his hair. 

“Kosta. You are confined to the Tempest until further notice. You will spend this evening deep cleaning the galley. And the shower room. Everything will shine, you understand?”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

“Brodie. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your antics over there. I know you played some part in this… episode… as well. Tempest poker night is postponed, indefinitely. Understand?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Brodie responded crisply, from his position on the floor.

“Jaal, I think you need to spend more time with Cora, Kallo, and Suvi, and less with these two. Their behaviour is often inappropriate, and you don’t know enough about our ways to know when they are talking out of THEIR FUCKING ARSES.”

Gil and Liam both cringed as Ryder raised her voice.

“I seem to have caused a problem of some kind,” Jaal commented. 

“The problem,” Vetra said dryly, “is that Brodie and Kosta are allowed to speak.” 


	5. Marketplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping for information? Shocking.

Vetra noticed the four discreet guards first, carefully opening a path through the crowded marketplace. They were polite, smiling, and people smiled in return. So unlike the Outcasts’ behaviour. The turian was only vaguely curious as to who could require guards while shopping. As long as there wasn’t any trouble it was no concern of hers. Vetra returned to her browsing. Gil needed some spare parts for the Nomad. The person on the Nexus in charge of allocating parts wanted some fabric to make a dress for her wife. Asari always looked good in white, so Vetra was searching for something with a pretty texture or self coloured design. Really, she should have made Gil come along and help her choose. Fashion was not her strong point.

“Quartermaster Nyx, I presume?"

That tinkling, musical voice could only be angaran. Vetra turned to see who had spoken. An especially lovely angaran woman, with the guards in tow. She didn’t need many guesses to work out who the speaker was.

“Yes, that’s right.” Vetra nodded in greeting. 

“I’m Keema Dohrgun, if you didn’t know already.” The angaran reached out to clasp Vetra’s hand in both of hers. 

“I had a strong suspicion,” Vetra replied in a friendly manner. 

“I wonder, would you care to join me at the new outdoor cafe?” Keema asked. “I believe we may have some mutual interests.”

“I’m not sure about us having mutual interests, Ms Dohrgun but a sit down might be nice.”

“Excellent. I believe the cafe does have items suitable for turian consumption. It’s over this way.”

Keema and her guards, led Vetra through the marketplace to where a few tables and chairs had been set up looking down over the badlands. A salarian in a floral apron was bustling around with a tray, serving drinks and snacks. Vetra hid her amusement. It wasn’t very long ago that this marketplace had been patrolled by thugs with assault rifles, and now there were floral aprons, drinks with umbrellas, and fancy little cakes. People were bouncing back after the horror of the Outcast regime, and they were doing it in style. 

After they had sat down and ordered chilled drinks, Keema looked Vetra straight in the eye. 

“How is your friend these days? My friend isn’t doing very well,” Keema said delicately. 

“Ah. Perhaps your friend doesn’t deserve to do very well?” Vetra suggested.

“Oh, I agree totally. I advised him to tell all. He didn’t listen. Foolish man.”

Their drinks arrived and Keema sipped at hers as the server waited for her reaction. 

“Very good! My favourite so far,” she said. Satisfied, the salarian walked away. 

“Anyway, I like your friend. I think your friend and my friend were good for each other. I hadn’t actually seen my friend be happy before, you know. I had decided he wasn’t capable of it, then he met your friend. The change in him was delightful. What did you think of their friendship?”

“Frankly, Keema, I was dubious that your friend could be trusted. Still am. Liars don’t stop lying,” Vetra commented. 

Keema looked disappointed. Clearly she had been looking for an ally. 

“But,” Vetra continued, “I can’t deny he had a positive effect on my friend. After spending time together, she was always relaxed and smiling, something which hadn’t happened very often.”

“And now?” Keema wondered. She was picking apart her little cake. None of it had gone into her mouth so far. 

“Devastated is a good word for it. We don’t mention Kadara in front of her any more. Which is why I came here on a Nexus shuttle, and not the Tempest. She gets on with her work. She pretends to sleep. She pretends to eat. We pretend not to notice.” Vetra took a hearty bite of her dextro cake. It was pretty good. 

“Mine is just the same!” the angaran exclaimed. “Surely we can’t let them continue like this? They love and need each other.”

“I don’t care whether they love each other or not. Not my business. What is my business, is keeping my friend in her position, which she is very good at, even when distressed. A relationship with your friend could compromise her badly enough she loses her job. And we need her in that job because she can do things no one else can.”

“My poor little brother,” Keema said sadly. “I can hardly bear to see him like this.”

Hmm, interesting, Vetra thought. Angara take family incredibly seriously, and Keema thinks of Vidal as her brother. Might be an angle there we could exploit at some stage. 

“What does your friend say, if anything, about the situation?” Vetra enquired.

“He says it is over, there is no hope, and he must learn to live without her. I truly think his heart is broken.”

Keema seemed sincere but she had managed to conspire against Sloane Kelly with no suspicion falling upon her. Vetra knew the angaran had to be good at dissembling. 

“It might be best for them both to learn that. Their positions being what they are, a relationship between them is never going to be a good idea.” Vetra finished her cake, decided to buy some to take back for Sid. 

Keema nodded slowly. “But, Vetra, please, tell me one thing. Do you think your friend did truly care for mine? It was genuine? Not merely an infatuation?” 

“Yes, she truly cared,” Vetra replied bluntly. “And your friend, was he just playing mine? Using her for his own ends?”

“Honestly? That had been his original intention, but it didn’t survive their first meeting. We needed her help, true. The more time he spent with her, the more reluctant he was to involve her. If our need hadn’t been so very great, he would have not involved her at all. That is partly why he didn’t tell her. He wanted to protect her in case our plans failed.”

They stared at each other, angaran and turian. Each, trying to gauge the sincerity and truthfulness of the other. 

“Situations change,” Keema finally. “What then?”

“Depends on how the situation has changed. Depends on how far our friends have moved on. They might not even want to be together.”

“Very well. All we can do is wait, and support them as best we can.” Keema finished her drink. “And what brought you to our market today, Vetra?”

The turian accepted the change of subject easily. “I need some white fabric, suitable for making a dress.”

“Ah, yes, you were at the big fabric stall when I saw you. I know a much better source of lovely fabrics. I was about to visit it to obtain some new cushions. Perhaps you would care to accompany me? Shopping alone isn’t as much fun.”

“Sure, why not? First, I want to get some of these cakes to take back to the Nexus. My sister will love them.” Vetra stood, tapped out the payment on her omnitool.

“You and your sister travelled together to a new galaxy? How marvellous. You must tell me about her.” Keema signalled to her guards. “The other shop is this way, Vetra.”

“Lead the way, Keema. Lead the way.”


	6. Building Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble takes place early in the morning after "Final Paragraph."

Drack was taking the long way round from his bed to the bio lab. It was early, a couple of hours before normal breakfast time on the Tempest. He was shuffling along in the fluffy slippers Kesh had given him as a joke present. Drack enjoyed wearing them because they reminded him of Kesh, and because other people reacted so weirdly when they saw them. 

He was wearing something else Kesh had provided, after the Tempest crew had begged Drack not to sleep naked any more. They weren’t offended by the sight of his wrinkled quads. Oh no, apparently seeing all the scars over his body put them off their breakfast. Pft! Anyway, Kesh had produced what she called a ‘nightshirt’. He called it his sleep dress, because it was obviously a dress. HIs granddaughter had outdone herself. The fabric was the most lurid Drack had ever seen, with spots and stripes, in half a dozen different colours. It was repulsive to behold, the epitome of bad taste. The dress even had a hood! How incredible was that!  Drack loved it. He particularly enjoyed eating breakfast in the galley while wearing his ugly dress and fluffy slippers, because practically no member of the crew could bear to look at him.  The outfit guaranteed he would be left in peace. 

This morning Drack had a particular treat in mind for breakfast today. The recipe used fresh herbs, ones which he had got Vorn to plant for him in the bio lab. Drack would snip a few leaves here, a few leaves there, and stroll back down to the galley to get cooking. His mouth was watering already in anticipation. 

The bio lab door slid open, revealing Harper perched on one of the tables. Drack grunted in disappointment. He enjoyed the quiet time before the rest of the crew got up and now it looked like he was going to have to converse. With Harper. Who was currently his least favourite human. He nodded at her to acknowledge her presence. 

“I hope you’re not going to chop bits off my flowers again, Drack,” Cora said.

“Anyone could make that mistake. Normal people grow plants to eat them, not look at them. I’m not the weirdo in that encounter.” 

The deep fried blossoms had had a delicate flavour which had added subtlety to that evening’s salad. Unfortunately, Harper had kicked up a fuss about Drack vandalising her plants. How was he supposed to know they were for decoration only? Crazy humans!

The krogan peered at Harper. She was in the same clothes she had been wearing the previous evening. Her eyes were red.

“Have you been to bed, Harper?” he asked.

“Nope.” She lifted a bottle of rotgut and took a deep swallow. 

Out of character for the shiny Initiative doll for drink alone. Usually she nursed one beer for a whole evening. 

“What’s wrong?” Drack wasn’t sure if he particularly cared whether there was something wrong with her, but upset biotics are dangerous biotics, and they were in deep space. 

“Don’t bother with the fake concern, old man. I know you despise me.”

He considered his honest answer, which was that he didn’t have enough interest in her to despise her, decided that lying was the best policy here. 

“Don’t despise you, Cora. Don’t know you very well. We don’t have much in common to talk about.”

“You’ve made an effort to find something in common with everyone else on the crew. Not with me though. Even the salarian.” She downed another throatful. 

“Yeah, you’ve got me there, Cora. Guess you made a poor first impression on me, and I’ve never bothered to try and find out how accurate it was.”

“This conversation is the only time you’ve called me by my first name, Drack.” 

He found a convenient counter to lean on. “You’ve not been particularly friendly to me either.” 

“S’pose not.” 

Drack noticed there were black streaks from her eyes down her face. Her makeup had run. Fuck, she’d been crying. He hated it when people cried. It was so emotional and needy. Drack had run out of patience with that bullshit centuries before. Why couldn’t people just deal with their crap in private? Then he realised that was exactly what Harper had been doing. She’d squirrelled herself away in a quiet corner while everyone else slept, doing her sobbing and drinking without anyone to witness. Until he’d woken up early and decided to make a treat for breakfast. And because he’d interrupted her, he had an obligation to find out what was going on. Day ruined already!

“Talking about problems helps. Keeping them inside your own head makes ‘em worse,” he said.

“Why would I talk to you?”

“You don’t need to talk to me. Talk to somebody. You should know that. Asari never stop talking about their shit. Thought you’d have learned that in the commandos.”

“Yeah, I did. Shame no one wants to listen.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Maudlin as well. 

“I suppose I could listen. While I look after my plants. You could talk, and I’d just happen to be in the same room at the same time.” 

Harper narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you insane, or taking the piss?”

“Could be either. Not always sure myself, you know. The older I get, the less difference there is between the two.” 

“Ryder hates me. I was trying to look out for her but I did it all wrong, and now she hates me.” Cora dumped her face into her hands. “Her dad would have wanted me to make sure Sara did everything right.”

“Seems to me, tasty blue plant, that the Pathfinder is doing a good job of getting shit right by herself.”

“She is so reckless! Always running headfirst into things. She doesn’t listen to Director Tann, doesn’t follow his directions.”

“Hmm, yummy red plant. That’s because Director Tann is too far up his own cloaca to know what direction he’s facing.”

“He’s in charge!”

“He’s incompetent!”

“I thought you were only going to listen, krogan?”

“I’m talking to my plants! Vorn says it helps them grow faster.”

They stared at each other, equally frustrated. Then Cora smirked. 

“Drack, you actually come up here and talk to the plants to make them grow?”

“Yeah, Vorn’s a botanist. Figured he’d know.”

Cora started to giggle.

“That little bastard tricked me? I’ll cut his quads off.” It's difficult to get a good stomp one in fluffy slippers, Drack discovered.

The human was shaking with laughter by this point. “I’m going to check the security footage, put together a selection of clips. Vorn’s earned it.”

Drack had to admit, albeit reluctantly, Vorn had earned it. His granddaughter’s boyfriend had got him good. And proven the biotic human did have a sense of humour, which he had always doubted. 

“I bet you’ll show everyone else too,” he rumbled. 

“Well, maybe we can come to an arrangement about that.”

“Blackmail, is it now?”

“I’d call it a consideration for my efforts in keeping such a morale booster secret from our team mates.”

Drack thought about it. He was wearing an ugly dress and fluffy slippers. Dignity was something he had clearly forsworn. “Ha! They need the laugh. Show them. Won’t bother me.”

“Fuck. Now I have to actually go through all that footage.”

“Bit of life wisdom from an ancient krogan. Don’t make threats if you’re not willing to follow through. Makes you look weak.”

Cora offered him her bottle of booze. Drack grabbed it, sniffed the contents, and downed a large amount. Pretty feeble stuff.

“I heard Ryder tore a strip off you,” he commented.

The human sighed. “Yeah. Told me never to talk to her again about Vidal. I don’t understand what she sees in him.”

“I didn’t either. Couldn’t be bothered trusting him, or disliking him. Too smooth and slinky. Still, Vidal managed to put Ryder back together when the stress got too much for her. She could barely even look at Vetra or me. He worked a fucking miracle,” Drack said.

“When the stress got too much for Ryder? When the hell was that?” Cora snapped. 

“Shit, I’d forgotten we hadn’t told you about that.”

“Well, you’d better tell me now, Nakmor Drack, or you’ll die in that fancy outfit of yours.”

“I shouldn’t need to tell you, Harper. You should have noticed there was something wrong with the kid on Elaaden, but no, you were too busy lecturing her on hot weather protocols and how to talk to krogan.”

“Just tell me what the fucking problem was on Elaaden already!”

“She developed a fucking deathwish for a start, and you didn’t bloody notice.”

Cora blinked rapidly. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t spot that Ryder shaving her head was a bad sign. Me and Vetra knew that, and our species don’t even have hair.”

Drack grabbed Cora’s bottle and helped himself to another swig. Cora exhaled deeply, put out her hand for the bottle. 

“Shit. You’re right, Drack. I’ve missed a lot, have I?”

“Bloody right you have. Too busy scrutinising and criticising the Pathfinder to notice her behaviour and mental state were deteriorating hourly.” Drack pulled a leaf from one of Cora’s plants and turned it over in his claw. 

“Is that what it looks like I’m doing?” Cora demanded. 

“Yep.” Drack sniffed the leaf and popped it into his mouth. 

“I thought I was providing different perspectives,” Cora said.

Drack laughed until he coughed, then had to thump himself on the chest. When he could talk again, the krogan said, “You nearly killed me with that one.”

Cora glared at him, which set Drack laughing again. 

“Can I pull it back? Build a better relationship with Sara? Or is it too late, do you think, Drack?”

“Depends,” he grunted.

“On what?”

“Ryder surviving the Archon’s ship. She doesn’t think she will. Already put plans in place for your takeover.”

“Fuck.” Cora drank deeply from her bottle. “Going in with that kind of attitude will make sure she doesn’t come back.”

“Damn straight. The kid had one thing going for her, one thing that made her feel happy. Without it, she’s not planning on a future.” Drack reached out again towards Cora’s plant, but she knocked his claw away.

“Reyes Vidal, you mean.”

Drack nodded.

“I’ve really screwed her over then.”

He nodded again. 

Cora jumped down, her inebriation evident in how she swayed once standing again. 

“I’m going to fix this. I’m going to tell Sara…”

“Nothing,” Drack interrupted. “She’s managed to make some kind of peace. She’s accepted that the relationship is impossible, said her goodbyes. Don’t piss all over that, not with this mission due to go ahead.”

“There must be something I can do. Sara is desperately unhappy. I can’t ignore that,” Cora paused, swallowed, “Now I’ve noticed it.” 

“Stop being a dick to Ryder all the time? That’s all I got. You’re not going to make her happy by digging up a corpse.” Drack shrugged, deliberately pulled another leaf from Cora’s plant, and started nibbling on it. 

“Will you fucking stop eating my plants?” Cora yelled. 

Drack grinned. “Well, my work here is done. I’m going back to bed.”

“You are such an arsehole.”

“Right back at ya, Cora!”

 

 


	7. Back from the Brink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set after Part 5 (Underworld) of Even Shadows Dream.

Reyes’ had broken his hand punching a behemoth. He’d barely noticed, his attention split between the battle he was fighting, and listening for a specific voice on the comms. The best he was able to do for Sara now was defend her rear, keep kett reinforcements from getting inside the structure. What did a broken hand matter?

It wasn’t until he saw Sara stagger out of the structure half carrying someone that Reyes could breath normally again. Comms had indicated her survival and success yet he wasn’t satisfied until he saw her face for himself. Dozens of people were clamouring for the Pathfinder’s attention. Reyes wanted, needed, to be beside her. How could he though? The high and mightiest of the Initiative were crowding round her. They would disapprove of any connection with Reyes Vidal, third rate smuggler. 

Sara was looking round the crowd, looking for someone. Then her eyes met his, and she stopped searching. Her expression immediately changed to one of relief. Had she been as concerned about him as Reyes had been about her? He didn’t know how to feel. It was better for him not to care about her. It was definitely better for Sara not to care about Reyes. 

They were too far apart to speak to each other. Reyes settled for a wink and a wave, waiting to see the smile lift Sara’s face before he turned away. There would be opportunities for speech later. He was so damn grateful she was still breathing, still upright. If he had been a religious man Reyes would have lit a candle in thanks. 

He had only taken a dozen or so steps when he heard gasps of horror behind, shouts of “Pathfinder!” Reyes had shoved people aside in a crazed dash to Sara. When he saw her, Sara was hanging limply in Jaal’s arms. Her alabaster skin was more grey than white. There was fresh blood dripping from both nostrils. He surged forward even faster, desperate to reach Sara. Reyes was nearly there when an invisible force stopped him. 

The blonde biotic, Harper, hurried over to where he was trapped. 

“You need to be discreet, for both your sakes,” she said as she released him. 

“Fuck discretion!” Reyes snarled. “I have to get over to Sara.”

“It’s too damn public, Vidal. You know that. Come with me, I’ll take you right into the Hyperion medbay. You’ll be there before Sara is.”

Reyes glared at her. “You don’t even like me. Why would you help me?”

“Because I care about Sara, and she cares about you. Nothing could be simpler,” Harper replied. 

She led Reyes through the throng straight to an emergency air lock now being used as a side door. 

“SAM, I need to take Reyes Vidal into the Pathfinder’s quarters to change clothes. Will you unlock the doors for us?”

“Why the fuck do I need to change?” Reyes demanded.

“Because everyone else on the Hyperion is wearing Initiative issue clothing. You stand out like a Krogan at a Salarian mating ritual.” Sara tapped on her omnitool. “SAM, do you agree with my reasoning and the need for Vidal to blend in?”

“I do, Harper. Pathfinder’s quarters are unlocked for you. There are clothes belonging to both Alec Ryder and Scott Ryder in there. I suggest Scott’s trousers and boots, Alec’s t-shirt, Reyes, for the optimum fit.”

Harper swore under her breath. “Even the goddamn AI calls me by my surname, but you’re Reyes.” 

She sounded irked enough for it to amuse Reyes, even in his current state. “What can I say? I’m a charming man.”

Now it was her turn to glare at him, but when she turned, no doubt expecting to see his usual flirtatious smile in place, Reyes was still looking deadly serious. 

“Which way?” he asked. 

Harper made off at speed, finding her way unerringly through the identical twists and turns of the Hyperion’s corridors. Reyes followed her, paying no attention to his surroundings or the route he was taking. All he could think of was Sara’s ashen face marked with her own blood. 

They stopped outside a large door, cunningly marked as Pathfinder’s Quarters. The door opened immediately without Harper doing or saying anything. 

“Thank you, SAM,” the smuggler said. 

Harper went straight to a locker on the far side. She rifled through it, grabbing clothes and boots which she then dumped on the bed. 

“Get changed,” she ordered.  

“And not even an offer of dinner first? How forward!” Reyes didn’t actually hesitate, stripping off his boots and flight suit while still walking towards the bed. In a remarkably short time he was standing there, looking like an Initiative drone from head to toe. 

Harper had noticed something though. “What’s wrong with your hand?” the biotic asked. 

“Broke it, punching one of the exalted Krogan. It will be fine,” Reyes replied.

“Gives us an excuse to take you into medbay, at any rate. Right, let’s move.”

Medbay was crowded with casualties. Even so it was easy to spot where Sara was, because of the Angaran looming over everyone else. 

“Try not to pick any fights in here,” Harper warned. “Especially not with Jaal.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Reyes threw her a tidy salute, hinting again at a military past. 

Harper cleared the way to Sara’s bedside by ordering those with no business in the medbay to get moving. Two doctors were working over the Pathfinder, who seemed non responsive. 

“Why have you brought that criminal in here?” Jaal hissed at Harper. 

Harper looked the Angaran up and down dismissively. “He has at least the same right to be here as you do.”

“He betrayed Ryder!”

“We’re not having this conversation again, Jaal. Go make yourself useful. Report on the Pathfinder’s condition to the Moshae and Evfra.”

Reyes watched as Jaal tried to physically intimidate Harper with his superior height, and as Harper ignored his attempts. Interesting dynamics here, he thought. Sounded like Harper had been sticking up for him, perhaps. 

Once the Angaran had gone, Harper took Reyes’ arm and brought him in closer to the bed. The Asari doctor looked up and nodded. 

“Good call, Cora. Sara is unresponsive to us. Maybe she will respond to Vidal.”

At a sign from T’Perro, Reyes took hold of the Pathfinder’s hand. “Sara, my darling, my love. Are you there?”

T’Perro was monitoring Sara’s lifesigns. “Good, she hears you. Keep talking, Vidal.”

“She isn’t moving,” Reyes replied. 

“Her body is more or less shut down, but there was a definite, positive reaction when you spoke. We need her to find the strength to fight through this. You can give her that strength, Reyes. Sara needs you,” the doctor said. 

Harper dumped a chair next to the bed, and he sat in it, not letting go of Sara’s hand. He spoke to her of Kadara, of how the planet was coming to life, how the badlands were blossoming. As the doctors worked, he told humorous anecdotes of his time in the Alliance, the story of how he and Kian met, of the incident which had led to the installation of the cages for the dancers in Tartarus. Reyes didn’t even pause or stumble when T’Perro set his broken hand, or when Sara was moved onto a stretcher. He held her hand all the way to her room, and sat on the floor next to the bed talking of his childhood while the Asari settled the Pathfinder into a suitable position.

Reyes was barely aware of Harper standing at his shoulder, warding off any who tried to interrupt or remove him. Both Jaal and Liam protested at Reyes’s presence when they came to visit but Harper overrode their objections and told them to shut up or leave, because they were interfering with Sara’s treatment. She brought Reyes coffee when he started to flag, eyelids drooping, still maintaining a steady pace with his words. 

Hours later, T’Perro touched his shoulder. “Sara is past her crisis, her lifesigns are steady,” the doctor told him. “Go find a bunk, Reyes. You are beyond exhausted.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” Reyes protested. 

“You need to sleep if you don’t want to be another patient,” the Asari insisted. 

Harper pushed herself away from the wall she had been leaning against. “I’ll get you a bedroll, Vidal, so you can sleep in here.”

The biotic was back in a few minutes to spread out a bedroll. She handed Reyes some ration bars and a bottle of water. He realised Harper was staring at him.

“What?” Reyes asked, too tired to articulate anything more than that. He had used all his words on Sara.

“I was wrong about you, Vidal. I’m sorry for it. Your feelings for Sara are clearly genuine, I was wrong to think you were playing her. I interfered, and I shouldn’t have,” Harper said, with a stricken expression. 

“Perhaps not that wrong, Cora. No one will care about my feelings if they find out what I do, who my alter ego is. They will crucify Sara. She doesn’t need that, especially now.” He could hardly hear himself, his throat raw after talking non stop for such a length of time.

“It’s not right,” the blonde replied. “Sara needs you. You talked her into staying alive.”

“Sara doesn’t need me. Her brother could have done the same.” Reyes took a large swallow of water. “I’ll be going once she wakes up. Don’t tell her about me being at her bedside, what I did. It will only complicate things for her.” 

“She deserves to know you brought her back from the brink.”

“I don’t want Sara thinking she owes me. I don’t want a relationship with her based on obligation or gratitude, or pity. Got that, Cora?” He stared at her, Charlatan on display.

“Okay, got it, Reyes. Not a word from me.”

“Or anyone else,” he insisted.

“I’ll see what I can manage, because we do owe you. We all owe you.”

Reyes lay down the bedroll, asleep instantly.

 

 

 


	8. Happy Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara had said Reyes Vidal was a better man than Cora thought. 
> 
> Now Cora wishes she didn't know what kind of man Reyes really was.

Most people, if you asked them how long it took for them to fall in love, wouldn’t be able to answer the question. They might say, it was this number of dates, or during that dinner party, or something similar. 

Cora Harper knew exactly how long it had taken her to fall in love, almost down to the second. She could mark it off, give a countdown of how she fell in love, over the course of eleven hours, starting from distrust, right to the moment she knew the unthinkable, the impossible had happened. She would never, could never admit to her feelings though. 

Cora Harper had fallen in love, not only with someone who was in love with someone else, but with someone who was also loved by someone she regarded almost as family. Over the course of those eleven hours, Cora had switched her opinion completely. She had started out believing he was nothing but trouble, manipulating and using her friend, exploiting Sara’s inexperience and naivety for personal gain. She had believed he was pretending to feelings he didn’t have, all the better to make Sara dance to his tune. 

How Cora wished she still thought like that. How she wished she still looked upon Reyes Vidal with dislike and disdain. 

Somehow, he had kept Sara tethered to the world of the living, with only his voice and the touch of his hand. While the doctors had worked to stop the bleeding in her brain and supervised SAM repair of neural connections, Sara had been slipping away faster than they could work. The young woman was fading, even as they watched and worked, and prayed. Then Cora had delivered Reyes Vidal to the medbay, and Sara’s lifesigns flickered in response to his voice. For the next eight hours, while the doctors fought for Sara’s life, Reyes Vidal had been her anchor, speaking to her without pause or stumble, without rest or food, taking only sips of water to keep his voice working. 

And Cora had heard it all. She had guarded them, Sara and Reyes, made sure no one interrupted the verbal lifeline, made sure no one tried to remove him from Sara’s side. She heard every endearment, every whispered “I love you, Sara, please don’t leave me.” She heard every story he told, every detail he shared of his childhood, his life in the Milky Way, what his hopes and dreams had been, and how meeting Sara had changed his life. 

Sara had said Reyes was a better man than Cora judged him, had said she had seen the real Reyes, and he was a decent, good hearted man. Cora had scoffed - Vidal was a criminal, nothing more, nothing less. 

Now Cora knew how right Sara had been. Reyes was flawed, yes, but his core was gold and good. Cora knew things about the love of Sara’s life that Sara herself didn’t know, might never know if she didn’t wake up. Only the strict control Cora had learned, as part of the Asari commandos, had stopped the tears as she listened to Reyes beg Sara not to die, to keep on breathing, to stay…

Those hours changed Cora forever. They had redefined her opinion of Reyes, yes, but also every thought she had ever had about love. This was what love should be. He had no expectation of a continuing relationship with the Pathfinder, and he didn’t care. He only cared that she should live, even if it was to find happiness with someone else. 

Early on, before she had truly understood the depth of Reyes’ feelings, she had set her omnitool to record what he was saying. Her purpose had been twofold. Firstly, what would happen if Sara had another medical crisis after Vidal returned to Kardara? A recording might answer as well as the man himself. Secondly, what an opportunity to gather intel on the Charlatan! A gold mine of information! Vidal was an unknown, a powerful unknown, any advantage they could gain would be priceless. 

Later, Cora understood Reyes would not leave Sara’s side while there was breath in the Pathfinder’s body, while there was the slightest danger she would not survive. He was investing his whole heart and soul into keeping Sara here, in giving her the will to live. Cora kept recording though. She couldn’t help herself. It was every love story, and every tragedy, unfolding before her. 

The critical time passed. Sara was out of immediate danger. Reyes was ordered to rest. Even then, he would not leave his love. Cora had fetched a bed roll, taking those moments out of the room to let her tears fall unnoticed. Tears of relief for Sara, tears of anguish for herself. While Reyes slept on the floor next to Sara’s bed, Cora stood watch. She listened to their breathing, she heard Reyes say the Pathfinder’s name in his sleep, and she imprinted his face into her memory. 

Cora knew, every time she listened to the recording, she was stealing from Sara. She knew she was doing her friend a great disservice every day she did not reveal the existence of the recording. Sara didn’t know Reyes had kept vigil for days at her bedside, didn’t know it had been his voice that kept her from slipping into death during those initial, terrifying hours. Cora lied to herself, saying she was doing what Reyes would want. He didn’t want Sara’s gratitude to create an obligation to be with him.  

She knew her love was hopeless. No one could know that better than she, who listened to Reyes’ words of love, over and over. The best Cora could hope for, was to recover from this affliction without anyone else realising her secret. She felt helplessly torn, between her love for Reyes, and her love for Sara. Cora had done them both a tremendous disservice by persuading the Pathfinder to not pursue her feelings for the smuggler. She had finally seen Sara’s feelings were anything but shallow, yet still managed to tell herself it had been for the best, because Sara’s feelings were not reciprocated. Cora now knew Sara’s love was completely, utterly requited.

She wanted Reyes to be happy, because she loved him, even if he loved someone else. She wanted Sara to be the happy go lucky young woman she had been, before Heleus, before Habitat 7. Sara needed Reyes, Reyes needed Sara, and Cora…. 

Cora would cry herself silently to sleep, listening to the voice of a man who barely knew of her existence, wishing it was her name he was saying, wishing he loved her and not her friend, and hating herself for those wishes. 

There would no happy ever after for Cora Harper.  


End file.
